Funeral, a Musical
Nan was perturbed, her whole schedule disturbed
by the reading of her late brother's will.
But despite their old rift, Phil had left her a gift,
with a promise she had to fulfill.
"A clause both conditional and non-traditional,
exists that I must enforce."
"Get on with it!" Nan said to the lawyer, who read
a letter straight from the source:
I regret our estrangement, but not my "derangement."
Did you think me the first gay in Texas?
As my last living heir, my dear Nan, do prepare
for my postmortem way to connect us:
A funeral musical! A rhythm and blues-ical
show with my friends in cahoots.
And you'll star as Phil (reverse drag, if you will),
and walk a mile in my kinky boots.
"I'd rather go broke!" she said. "And revoke
fifty thousand?" the lawyer replied.
So off to rehearse Nan went with a curse
for her brother, and a tear beside.
In the theater, a crowd, high-strung and too loud,
was singing together on stage
a song by Aretha as they danced underneath a
glitter-encrusted birdcage.
"I'm in Oz!" Nan exclaimed, her cheeks so inflamed.
Their behavior she thought quite a spectacle.
A lingering man tapped a finger on Nan
on the shoulder lest she get apoplectical.
"Sorry to hover, dear. I was Phil's lover—
I'm Ray," he said for reaction.
Nan turned and burned him a stare well-earned,
thought she, not budging a fraction.
"I'm Nan, and there's no way that I will sashay
on the stage with all of you Marys!"
"Miss thing, you will snap, vogue, whack and toe-tap
with every last one of us fairies!"
Their standoff complete, Ray sent out a tweet
then gathered the group for a dance.
"This is Nan, she brought pomp to our musical romp,
my sweet Phil, the circumstance."
For hours she lumbered through musical numbers
interspersed with wild eulogy.
Gladys Knight, Marvin Gaye, and—of course—Beyoncé.
And stories that stretched credulity.
First rehearsal complete, Nan rubbed her sore feet.
To Ray said, "Our folks died ashamed."
"Oh Nan, hate is learned. But for you to have spurned?"
"They were old; it was you that he blamed."
"When he came out as gay, I drove Phil away
out of ignorant fear, never hate.
Later, time and distance had dimmed his existence
for me, and now it's too late."
After practice day four and jazz hands galore,
Nan said, "This is over the top!"
Ray laughed. "We are loud and exceedingly proud,
but you held your own, lollipop!"
What she first found annoying she soon was enjoying,
Phil's story as told by his friends.
And she playing he got to see him be free.
It was past time to make her amends.
On the day of the show—er, funeral—(I know!),
Nan said to the group, eyes tear-filled,
"I'm here and you're queer, and let's give a cheer
for my wonderful brother, Phil!"
Before curtain they clowned, and Nan looked around.
Her new friends were really a hoot.
Their costumes were whimsical, some downright flimsical.
Nan wore a sequined zoot suit!
To Ray, she did say, "I'm glad for today;
as Phil's sister I know I fell short.
I enjoyed the opportunity to meet his community,
and from now on I pledge my support."
"Thank you, dear Nan, you're a beautiful man.
Break a leg, you're going to be great."
And so, Phil's funeral, at once sad and humor-al,
began: "Five, Six, Seven, Eight!"
